


Right Before Your Eyes

by ClanDonnachaidh



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClanDonnachaidh/pseuds/ClanDonnachaidh
Summary: Claire realises that her new tv obsession hits a little closer to home.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 77





	Right Before Your Eyes

My colleague and best friend Geillis shoved her hand at me from across the dinner table, halting me in my protestations. Her fire red hair and piercing green eyes shone out from the dim of the restaurant that we were sat in, the forced ‘ambience’ plunging us into abject darkness as we struggled to see the food that had been put in front of us. We’d had more than a few glasses of wine since leaving work to travel to Inverness for a conference and they had made us louder, and cruder, than we would normally be. She was currently telling me, the ferocity of her conviction matched only by her unquestionably fierce personality, to watch a new tv show that she’d suddenly become obsessed with.

“Ye’d love it, Claire, honest!”

“It sounds _awful_ , Geillie. I’m all for fantasy but travelling back in time to old Scotland by touching a stone? It sounds so cheesy,” I waved her off as the indignation grew even stronger on her pointed features.

“Right you, just wheesht and promise me ye’ll watch it, okay?” She said fixing me to the spot with her bright green eyes. I was beginning to wonder whether or not she’d try to take me from my hotel bed in the night and force me to watch it by way of torture. I rolled my eyes at her and took a deep drink of my wine.

“Fine, fine, whatever you say, my dear.”

***

My feet carried me through the corridors at a quick march and I practically burst through the door to Geillis’ office before slamming the copy of the book that she had let me borrow from her just days before. A thousand and something pages had flown past me, hours spent curled up in the big armchair that sat in my living room, only stopping to eat and drink when Jamie had forced a cup of tea into my hands, my fingers having to be forced from stretch out from their stasis in the position of curled, gnarled claws grasped tightly around the pages. I had always been a fast reader, my school English teacher signing me up for a speed reading group when she found out that I’d read, and more importantly retained, the entire trilogy of The Lord of the Rings in three days. But even for me, someone who usually had at least three books on the go, this first instalment had held my attention like no other and I had devoured it in record time. Geillis didn’t flinch at the sound of the book hitting the table, only carried on clicking her perfectly manicured nails on her keyboard.

“I have to have the next one, will you take it for me tomorrow?”

Her fingers halted in the air above the keys and a wry smile played on her lips. She looked like the cat who’d got the cream as she reclined in her chair, raising her hands above her head in celebration.

“Just think, weeks ago there ye were sayin’ ye’d _never_ watch it and now how many times have you seen it through? Four? And reading the books too!”

“Yes, okay, I was wrong and you were right, now will you take the second book tomorrow?” I asked exasperatedly.

“I’ll take ye the next three given the amount of time it took ye to get through this behemoth,” she laughed as she fanned the pages of the book through her fingertips and I kissed her on the crown of her head.

“You are a saint, Duncs.”

***

I hadn’t noticed that I was sat in almost total darkness until Jamie snapped on the light switch, bringing my binging into the harsh light of day. I resisted the urge to hiss like a vampire, rubbing at my eyes slightly as the instant change from dark to light made them water. Rolling his eyes at me in jest, he dropped his backpack on the floor and moved over to me, pressing his lips to the crown of my head as I stayed in my huddled mass of limbs and the tartan blanket that lived on our sofa.

“Have ye moved at all since I left, Sassenach?” he smirked as he made his way into the adjoining kitchen to prepare his post-gym protein shake. While my other half of four years enjoyed battering his body in the gym, picking up heavy things and putting them down again only to pick them up again and repeat, I enjoyed spending my spare time in a much more sedentary position. As my work days had me constantly on my feet, I would make sure my days off were spent wrapped up in as many layers as possible, a cup of tea beside me and a book always within reach. Although I couldn’t say that I didn’t appreciate the fact that he spent hours in the gym, the results being something that I enjoyed very much. I admired his muscular legs, the length of them carrying up to his backside that was one of my favourite features of his, as well he knew. I grabbed the remote and paused the scene that was playing, a rousing speech being made to an army of men that were preparing to meet their destiny on Culloden moor.

“Showered, at the very least. It’s my day off, if I want to binge watch, I am well within my right,” I tried not to jut my chin too far out in defiance and watched his shoulders shake as he laughed silently to himself.

“Dinna let me stop ye, I’m away into the shower anyway,” he said nonchalantly as he pulled his gym shirt over his head, the muscles of his abdomen glistening slightly with the exertion of his workout. As he moved past me and into the hallway, I admired the long lines of his body, the muscles in his back and shoulders flexing as he discarded his shirt into the washing basket. He had developed a sixth sense when it came to me and he turned to shoot me a quick grin as he disappeared from sight, knowing full well that I would be watching him, admiring the man that I was head over heels in love with. When I heard the shower begin to run, I turned back to my show and burrowed even further into my nest, hitting the play button once more.

Ten minutes later, he walked back into the room rubbing a towel through his hair. I secretly hoped that he let it dry naturally, letting his natural curls form instead of being straightened into submission by the heat of a hairdryer. Not wanting to be caught staring at him, as I so often was, I turned my attention back to the screen where the battle of Culloden was in full swing.

“What’s this then? Don’t tell me ye’ve decided to watch something else for once!” He mocked as he moved towards me, his eyes not leaving the screen as the choreographed violence intrigued him. He could never resist depictions of battles. Smug that I had the upper hand in the situation, I looked at him squarely and told him the truth.

“It’s the _same show_ , you idiot. This season is about the ’45. See, it’s not all bodice ripping and romantic declarations.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to watch. He was, at heart, a man who loved the history and story of the country that he held so dearly.

“Is it really? This looks pretty cool,” he mumbled, somewhat under his breath as though he wasn’t willing to concede the point to me.

“I told you it was good but no, you wouldn’t listen to me,” my eyes pulled themselves back to the screen as the beautiful male lead appeared, all fire and fury in the midst of battle, Gaelic bursting from his lips. I snuck a look to Jamie and saw that he was still watching, rolling his eyes at the actor on screen.

“Dinna see what ye see in him but I suppose, each to their own,” he waved a hand dismissively as he moved back into the kitchen, busying himself with tidying up bits and pieces.

“Are you kidding?! Look at him, Jamie! He’s tall and strong and those blue eyes and my God, that hair! And Scottish to top it all off!” I squealed, getting carried away as I watched the actor slash and stab at his foes on the battlefield. There was silence from the kitchen and I looked over to see him standing there, barely able to contain the laughter that was bubbling behind his lips.

“Can ye no’ hear yerself, Claire?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tall,” he flicked his thumb into the air from his fist as his bare feet took a confident step towards me, “strong,” his index finger followed, “blue eyes,” a third finger, “red hair,” a fourth, “and Scottish,” with the flick of his pinky finger, he held an entire open palm in the air.

“Your point being?”

His lips curved up in a smile as he allowed himself to laugh, “That’s _me_.”

The realisation of the truth of his words hit me like a brick. My mouth opened slightly before I managed to snap it shut. I was not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he was right. It all suddenly clicked into place in my head, my obsession that had grown so quickly over such a short period of time, the hours I’d spent staring at the face of a man on a screen who so clearly reflected all the things I loved about the man I was lucky enough to have in real life.

The dark curls of my hair shifted as he twisted one around his finger, lovingly bringing my attention to him as he moved his hand to cup my cheek in its palm. His blue eyes blazed down at me, the corner of his lips twisted up in a smile. Instinctively, I let my face fall further into his hold, pressing my lips against his skin in a chaste kiss.

“I’ll play the role of a Highlander if ye want me to, Claire.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” I groaned as he began to laugh quietly, raising my face to his so he could kiss me softly.

“I’m sorry, mo chridhe, couldnae help myself.”

“This is so embarrassing,” I laughed at myself, effectively showing him that he was right about the whole situation, “At least we know that I have a type?”

“Aye, yer type is me. Jus’ as ye are mine,” he grinned as he nudged me along the sofa with his knee, sinking down onto the leather with me and wrapping me in his arms. Sighing contentedly, I let my head fall onto his shoulder and smiled when I found myself in my favourite place on the earth.

“I love you, soldier.”

“I love you too, Sassenach.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the entirely true story of how I was introduced to/came to love Outlander. Thank you to Vikki Crombie who is my own Geillis and sat across from me at a dinner table telling me how much I'd enjoy the show she was watching. And obviously, I'm forever thankful for Craig, my Scottish, blue eyed, six foot ginger who has absolutely besotted me from our first date four and a bit years ago.


End file.
